Relatively recently, I began to realise that ‘healing’ is something that comes in many forms. We, as humans, are all healers, and all born with the ability to heal. From the very first moment we arrive on the planet, our bodies heal and renew themselves every day. Beyond that, most people desire to help others in any way that they can, and that is also a kind of healing. Animals help each other, and humans, to heal without expecting anything in return, and without even consciously deciding to do it. They are simply being themselves, and coming from a place of pure unconditional love. They are in flow.

For some time, I labelled myself as a ‘healer’. Interestingly, during the past year, the label began to peel away and I began to wonder who I was underneath it all. I realised that I had built up yet another identity on which to base my worth, which was actually quite a difficult realisation to integrate. I’ve noticed that any time I attach my worth to something outside of myself, pain or fear arises when that thing is taken away or naturally passes by. Any time we put a label on ourselves or ‘put ourselves in a box’, there is a chance that it could change or be taken away. And then, what are we left with? Generally, we begin a process of discovering (and uncovering) our true selves all over again.

After I completed my Completion Process training in 2016, there was a real pull to start up a spiritual business of some kind, helping people to heal and integrate parts of themselves. A huge wave was taking shape and was propelling a lot of people into online healing and coaching businesses. I’d been building an online presence for a few years before the training, and I’d already been making YouTube videos for seven years. At the time, ‘getting myself out there’ and sharing the newfound healing modalities that came to me through a channelled experience felt good, and it felt authentic. I was in alignment. Synchronicities popped up everywhere, and I met the right people at the right time, as is the way with these things. And then, as we can always rely on in our lives – things changed.

As I mentioned in my last blog, I burned out emotionally, mentally and physically in 2018, and had to stop doing healing work of any kind. Although, I didn’t really stop ‘healing’ at all. My energy needed to be focused inwards, and lots of self-healing occurred. And I helped friends and family in little ways, such as listening and sharing a little wisdom here and there. I did, however, stop healing as a ‘business’. Interestingly, earlier on in the year, I had received an insight that I wasn’t meant to have a healing or energy work business at this time in my life. I wasn’t meant to be giving tarot and oracle card readings either. And that’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy doing those things, because they were a huge passion of mine, it’s just that the time and energy for that had run its course. However, I didn’t listen to my intuition, because I had spent such a long time building up my business and putting myself ‘out there’. I’d spent hours creating my website, learned about online marketing and become self-employed. How could I possibly just take everything apart and let it go?

I’ve realised that when something has run its course, it’s best to let it go very soon after the intuition or inkling arises. When the flow of the river has shifted elsewhere, it doesn’t feel good to try to sail or float along a dried up riverbed. In fact, as you can imagine, it doesn’t work. I’ve also realised that the reason I held on for so long is that I had spent so long ‘building a name for myself’. And I think that says it all, really. I’ll be the first to admit that there was a certain level of ‘ego payoff’ for the work that I was doing. Although, I want to make it clear, both to myself and you as a reader, that I had my heart in the right place – I wanted to help others. And I still do. Only now it seems as though it will be in a different format – a format that I’m yet to discover, although little intuitive nudges are appearing here and there, and have been for some time. And, of course, writing these blogs is a way to share and help others, whilst enjoying the natural flow of my talent for writing. Something that I’ve always enjoyed doing, and that comes to me easily. Generally, things are far more simple than we expect them to be.

I’ve realised that when something has run its course, it’s best to let it go very soon after the intuition or inkling arises. When the flow of the river has shifted elsewhere, it doesn’t feel good to try to sail or float along a dried up riverbed. In fact, as you can imagine, it doesn’t work. I’ve also realised that the reason I held on for so long is that I had spent so long ‘building a name for myself’. And I think that says it all, really. I’ll be the first to admit that there was a certain level of ‘ego payoff’ for the work that I was doing. Although, I want to make it clear, both to myself and you as a reader, that I had my heart in the right place – I wanted to help others. And I still do. Only now it seems as though it will be in a different format – a format that I’m yet to discover, although little intuitive nudges are appearing here and there, and have been for some time. And, of course, writing these blogs is a way to share and help others, whilst enjoying the natural flow of my talent for writing. Something that I’ve always enjoyed doing, and that comes to me easily. Generally, things are far more simple than we expect them to be.

Recently I’ve been meeting and observing people who have built a life around their creative passion. They don’t label themselves as a ‘healer’, yet they heal by bringing a great deal of joy to people’s lives. They touch lives by being their true self, and by doing the things that they love to do. I’ve felt a real admiration for these people lately, and it’s made a big difference to the way that I see the world. Watching someone who is in their element, doing the things that they love and are passionate about, is incredibly inspiring. It brings a smile to my face whenever I see them ‘in action’, because there’s a strong sense of passion that flows from them. It’s a real joy to watch.

What if the things that we can do so easily, and that seem to just flow from us – the things that we love to do – are the gifts that we came to share with the world?

And, what if those things are the tools with which we bring our own healing abilities into the world? Therefore, helping ourselves and others at the same time.

What if flowing with the river, and letting ourselves be guided on what to do next is the easiest and most fulfilling way to live? Wouldn’t that make life so much more enjoyable!

A smile to a stranger, a kind word to a friend, an expression of gratitude or a compliment to someone who touches our lives. Picking up a worm from the pavement and putting it on the soil. Feeding the birds and watering the plants in your garden. Donating clothes or unwanted items to a charity shop. Picking up litter and putting it in the bin. All of these are acts of healing. Even writing this blog is an act of healing, because it could touch the lives of others.

Through my experiences over the past year, I’ve noticed and realised that we cannot heal through, or from, a place of ego. We always heal through love. Loving thoughts, loving words, loving actions. Some people may choose to become healers in the sense that they actively use healing energy through a kind of modality, and that’s really very beautiful when in alignment with their soul expression and purpose on the planet.

Healing will always be a part of my life, whether I choose to practice as an energy healer again or not. Whichever kind of work I choose do in the world, I will bring healing energy with me. Because, as I’ve realised, it is a part of who I am. I’m curious to see how this will unfold in a ‘practical’ way in the future, but, for now, I’m happy to just let it be as it is.

I’m writing this blog on 31st December 2018; New Years Eve. It’s incredibly likely, although I can’t remember my exact thoughts, that ten years ago to this day, I was contemplating on the impact that my new years resolution would have on my life in the year 2009. That resolution was the biggest I have ever made, and it I knew I was going to be taking a huge risk. I had decided to gather up all of my courage and strength and take the huge step of beginning the gender transition that I had been mulling over in my mind for over five years. Parents would be re-told (I had already “come out” to them five years before), doctors would be contacted, friends who didn’t already know would be receiving emails, my name would be changed legally, hormone therapy would be started, surgeries would take place, and my life would be generally turned upside down. I was well aware of the enormity of the decision I was making, and I was even more aware of the fear and anxiety that was churning away in the pit of my stomach. But my heart was somewhat calm, and I knew, from the depths of my soul, that this was the only way I was going to be able to live a life in which I felt at home in my own body.

Ten years on, as I write this blog, I’m reflecting on the conversation I had with my mother while walking along the seafront, in January 2009. The conversation in which I told her that I had decided to pursue physical gender transition, and that I would be following that course of action whether or not she approved, and whether or not she would support me. When I look back at that, I’m quite impressed with the strength and courage I brought forth in that situation. It was a moment of massive vulnerability, and it served me well.I’m incredibly fortunate to have a mother, and a father, who accept me as I am, and who have done the best that they can as they’ve watched their daughter become a man. I have no idea what that would feel like, as I’ve never experienced it myself, but I can only imagine that it would be challenging on so many levels.

I’ve had many friends, some of whom are no longer in my life, who have supported me as I’ve walked this path. People who have had no issue whatsoever with changing pronouns and the name that I chose to go by. It’s such a distant memory now, being called “Sir” and “Mister” for the first time. I sometimes remind myself that so many of the things that I experience now, and often take for granted, are things that I desperately longed for ten years ago. When I stand in front of the mirror now and think, “Urgh, I really can’t be bothered shaving today”, I remind myself that, not so long ago, I used to wish for a reason to shave my face. I looked forward to having thicker hair on my arms and legs, and I definitely achieved that goal. Infact, I totally surpassed any expectations I had for body hair growth! Sometimes, when I sing, I feel the deep resonance in my voice, and I cast my mind back to a time when I could barely make telephone calls, go up to the bar in pubs, or order food at a restaurant, because my voice “gave me away”. It feels so strange to look back on those times from where I am now, but it is good for me to do so. To remember where I came from, and to remind myself of the pain and anguish that came with looking into a mirror and seeing someone, or something, that I just couldn’t relate to.

Along with the joy of witnessing my body change, and hearing the pronouns I so longed to hear, there have been elements of pain and sacrifice, of mourning and letting go. I released parts of my body that could have created life in this world. I let go of a name that had been given to me by my parents, and that I had carried with me since my birth. These things were all a part of my journey. And, after all this time, my journey still continues, albeit in a very different way from here on in.

The biggest realisation I’ve had lately, and something that has really challenged my ego and sense of self, is that I haven’t changed at all. Of course I’ve learned a great deal, and I’ve grown in character and strength and confidence – all of that goes without saying. And, of course, my body has changed a great deal. However, at a core, fundamental level, at a soul level, I haven’t changed at all. The core of me is untouchable, untainted, has never been wounded, and hasn’t changed one little bit. Male or female; it makes no difference. So here I am, after ten years of playing out my story, and I’m realising that nothing’s really changed. After waving this story around for the past ten years, and somehow unconsciously relishing the label, I am still integrating what this recent realisation actually means for me, and how it is changing the way that I experience my life and express myself in the world. I find myself undertaking the strange and difficult task of removing the mask, the identity, that I have built up around my gender transition journey over the past ten years. Yes, I changed my gender – all of that really happened, and I still have injections every twelve weeks, and blood tests every six months, but WHO AM I underneath all of that? I do know the answer to this question, finally: I am the untouchable essence of my true Self. And there are things I came here to do, and be, and share. And when I have questioned why I have gone through all of this outer “stuff”, why I have turned myself inside out and faced all of these trials if my core is still exactly the same. The answer always comes back as:

“You needed to experience all of this to pass on a message. It’s a part of the medicine that you came to offer the world.”

And this, I accept. I accept that I have already touched many lives. And I am open to touching more, and more, and even more beyond that. This isn’t a statement of self-importance, it’s a statement of truth.I’m not completely aware of how things will play out from this point on, and I’m learning that I don’t have to know all of the details (if any). What I do know is: I’m right where I need to be. Even when I feel like I’m not “getting anywhere”, and ego tells me that I should be “further along” when it comes to my life purpose.

But, hear this, ego!

I have walked my talk.I have set intentions and they have manifested.And I actually stuck to a New Year’s resolution!

Recently, a wise friend told me that I have already achieved the goals that I set for myself all those years ago. I have already become the person that I set out to become. There is no need to push or fight anymore. This time is about grace, and it is about intention, and purpose.

And so, I wish myself a Happy New Year, and I know that the years to come will be filled with fresh opportunities and a renewed sense of purpose.I do not need to know what all of the steps are.I simply need to take the first step.Everything else will follow.

To say that 2018 was a difficult year for me would be a massive understatement. While I have experienced a lot of love and support, and met some new and wonderful people, I spent quite a large portion of the year in what I would describe as a painful and lonely darkness. I visited places within myself this year that I never thought I would venture into again. I’ve since been able to make more sense of everything that happened, and I have begun to gather the wisdom of the lessons that presented themselves. Fear almost stopped me from writing this blog, from sharing my experience, but here I am.

It had been a long time since I had felt the heavy cloak of hopelessness laid upon me. Even longer since my chest had felt as though it was gripped in a vice, my lungs struggling to take in air. I never imagined that I would feel the grip of panic again. Sometimes the feeling would creep up on me as I was sitting somewhere where I would usually feel safe. None of it really seemed to make any sense to me. As I realised over time, I had come back to these feelings of primal fear and despair because I had abandoned myself again. And, when you abandon yourself, when you ignore your needs and instead only meet the needs of others, you feel a loneliness that doesn’t go away when you’re with family, friends, or whoever else may be around you. You feel alone because you have left yourself alone. Alone in the dark, starving hungry for love. A love that no one else can really give you. A love that only you can give yourself. The cup is empty, and no one can fill it but you. And so, once the realisation occurs, and you reach out to the right people, the people who know how to (and are able to) love and give without conditions, you can begin the slow and steady climb back to yourself; to higher ground. Sometimes you slip and slide down a little, but at least you’ve made the choice to climb.

Part of the reason I slipped down into the depths to begin with was that I stayed in a relationship that was hurting me for too long. I stayed somewhere I didn’t belong. I ignored red flags and ignored my intuition. Sometimes, when we care for someone, we look past the facts that stare us in the face. And, of course, nothing is ever one-sided, and everything is a choice. I made choices that left parts of me feeling abandoned, unheard and unloved. Through ignoring my intuition, and trying once again to be a square peg in a round hole, I managed to create a huge mess. It turns out that it was exactly the massive wake-up call I needed, since I’d been blocking out all of the other signals that were arising from my core. A great deal of pain was experienced by both parties, and I still feel sadness when I reflect on that. It saddens me that unconsciousness, wishful thinking, and denial can cause so much pain. There were funny, exciting, creative and beautiful moments, and I’ll always remember them. The pain will never detract from their beauty. And yet, I still come back to the reality – my reality – that it wasn’t what my soul truly wanted. And, as I’ve written recently: “I didn’t turn myself inside out to live a life that isn’t mine.”

During the three weeks leading up to ending the relationship, I experienced symptoms of burnout. My whole body would burn as if I were experiencing fever, and I would feel as though I couldn’t breathe. I was wracked with guilt, having disturbing dreams, and experiencing intense headaches. I didn’t want to hurt the person I was in a relationship with, yet I didn’t want to continue hurting myself. I had to make a choice. I would cry at night, and I would cry upon waking. It was the only thing I thought of, day after day. I eventually accepted the decision my soul had already made, and I told her I had to walk away. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

After the decision was made, and I walked away, the pain was immense, yet I also felt a sense of relief. No more going back and forth and no more lying to myself. There was a sense of freedom and, for a short time, the symptoms of burnout began to ease off. In a moment of exuberance, I told my Tai Chi teacher that I was now ready to commit to instructor training. Since then, I’ve realised that I had given myself no time whatsoever to recover, and no time to process my feelings of grief and loss. I was still fragile, and I pushed myself to the limit once again. It’s so ironic, because Tai Chi has nothing to do with pushing; it has everything to do with flow. Needless to say, I wasn’t in flow at all. I was attending three or four classes a week, which is pretty acceptable if you’re not already completely fatigued, but far too much for someone who is already precariously wobbling towards burnout. I would push myself to attend, even if I wasn’t feeling up to it, and, once again, I managed to abandon myself and ignore my true needs. I had also begun giving Tarot card readings at a local cafe, which felt like a good idea to begin with, but I soon realised that you can’t hold space for others and tune in to higher realms if you’re running on empty and not at all grounded.

Unsurprisingly, I “hit a wall”, and had to stop – everything. I broke down, mentally emotionally and physically. My body burned again, I began experiencing severe headaches, and nosebleeds that would last over thirty minutes, leaving me feeling drained and dizzy. I stopped doing readings for people, I stopped facilitating healing sessions, I stopped my Tai Chi training – and, I felt like a failure for doing so. In short, I felt as though I had fucked up every area of my life, and I hit rock bottom – a place I never thought I’d visit again. And, at the time, it didn’t feel like a “visit”. I felt like I was stuck there, and that I would never get out.

Depression and anxiety are those places that feel like death and dying. This may sound dramatic, but if you’ve ever experienced a panic attack, you’ll know that it feels as though you’re about to die. You know that it’s completely irrational, sitting on a bus or walking down the street, feeling as though you’re about to die. Nothing has happened, and nothing is about to happen – aside from the possibility of blacking out from the lack of oxygen. I remember, years ago, sitting on a bus, feeling the terror and panic of an anxiety attack. I felt as though I was drowning, as my sense of hearing was dulled, my vision blurred and my heart raced. I felt as though I might throw up, and that brought even more of a sense of panic, because I knew that everyone would know that something was “wrong” with me. Panic attacks are hell. Thankfully, after years of learning techniques, researching, meditating, and attending therapy, I’m able to breathe my way through times of panic. Most of the time, I can attend a group, a class or event, and feel great – sometimes, I can barely focus on what people are saying, because my head is spinning and I can hardly breathe. Thankfully, the former is becoming my “normal” again.

I mentioned the words “dying” AND “death” because I also wanted to touch on depression. Depression isn’t feeling sad. Depression is a void of sorts, because it is a place beyond sadness. It’s a place of having given up. Maybe not completely, because I truly believe that there’s always hope within a person, it just sometimes gets buried to the point where we can’t find it. And we either reach out to someone to help us to find that dim and barely flickering flame, or we succumb to the darkness altogether. I’ve known people who have given in, and I remember the pain, blame and carnage that was left behind. If you are feeling this level of despair, and you feel like you “want out” of life altogether, remember that it’s never too late to reach out. As trite as this may sound, it’s true.

Methamorphoses of a Chrysalis: Soos Roxana Gabriela

I’ve experienced mental health challenges for most of my life, and that’s not something I say lightly. Infact, as I typed that, I realised how hard I find it to admit that sometimes. I’ve only recently begun to completely admit that to myself and own it. I’ve always had a depth of feeling and sensitivity that made me feel different to a lot of other people. I know that a lot of the depth of feeling and sensitivity has fuelled my creativity over the years, and I also know that I don’t have to feel absolutely awful anymore in order to write a creative piece! I’m blessed to know many other people who feel this way, and who have faced (and continue to face) their own challenges. I met these people by being honest about the way that I feel, and have felt over the years. Coming from a space of openness, authenticity and vulnerability is the only way in which we can truly connect with others. And yes, I know that this is scary, but the risks we take with this pay off in a big way.

As I continue to experience recovery, I know that it’s possible, with the right support, and the awareness to know when you need help. That’s part of why I’m writing this blog. From the outside, I know that not many people knew of the hell I was going through internally this year. I took a step back from social media, and didn’t see as many people for a while, but people do that all the time, right? Sometimes we can’t see how much another person is suffering inside, because they’ve become so adept at “putting on a brave face”. This has certainly been one of my party tricks over the years. I’m aware that I can be having a full-on meltdown inside, and be able to carry on as if nothing is happening. I don’t want to continue doing this. I would rather be open, honest and vulnerable, as frightening as that is. And, if there aren’t any people around whom I trust enough to be this honest, open and vulnerable with, I would rather retreat to a safer-feeling place and breathe deeply until it all passes over – which it always does. Nothing is permanent.

I am aware that I have learned many lessons in 2018, and not in the easiest of ways. It’s been a bit of a running joke for me that I tend to have needed to be slapped around the face by something in order to “get it”. I’m feeling much more determined to stay as centered as I can now. This year has been quite the detour, or as my therapist put it – a huge party (albeit not much fun) and I’m still getting over the hangover. If I’ve learned anything in 2018, it’s that I don’t need to push and pull things into my life in order for it to work. Feeling into what I need and want, and taking inspired action when the feeling arises, works best. Most of all, I’m learning and accepting that I am OK as I am. I don’t need to change anything about myself in order to be loved and accepted. It’s all about me really accepting myself as I am, without the masks. My true self, my core essence, has always been there – regardless of the stories that have played out on the outside – no matter what my outward appearance is, or has been.

When the darkest night approaches
I will be the star that lights your way
I’ll chase away all fear and hate
and protect you every day.

When I was a child, trees were probably some of my closest companions. I would spend hours playing in the small wooded area behind my family home, jumping across the little stream that ran through it. My cats would join me, and I would watch them hunt and explore. There was one tree, which I would eventually call my “Thinking Tree”, that particularly called to me. I was drawn to it from the very first moment I saw it. Now that I look back on it, from an adult perspective, I can see that I felt an affinity with that tree because it had fallen. The Thinking Tree acted as a bridge, from one side of the stream to the other, and, although it had fallen long ago, it was still strong enough to hold and inspire me.

My reason for spending so much time sitting in this tree, was conflict. My parents often argued, and some days I could even hear them from where I was sitting. The tree provided a kind of comfort that I now understand more fully. Although I’m sure I understood very intuitively as such a young age. Now I see the significance of my bond with the fallen tree – we have walked a similar path.

Lately, over the past two years, I have bonded with another tree. Near where I live, there is a beautiful Hawthorn passage, which seems to conjure up memories of ceremony. Either from others who have spent time there long ago, or maybe even from one of my past lives, as I’m sure I was a Druid in at least one of them. There is a strong sense of magic in this grove, and many nature spirits are present. Over the two years I have frequented the grove, a strong bond has been forged between myself and a rather strangely shaped tree. It grows sideways, unlike any of the other trees, and has three or four trunks that flow and dip, and create little seating spaces. I love to sit in these dips and feel the safety of the leaves and branches all around me, especially in summer, when the foliage is thick. This tree has a nurturing, motherly presence, and I go to her when I am feeling alone and in need of comfort. I also go there when I am feeling inspired and alive. She welcomes me in any state. She loves me unconditionally, as the Earth Mother does. I I love to play my didgeridoo in this tree, while listening to the birds. It’s such a beautiful way to connect with the Earth and the Sky. With all that is.

You see, trees are very special to me, and look forward to learning more of their secrets as I grow and mature with them. What a beautiful treat to have such companions on this sometimes difficult path of life.